


I'm Awkward, You're Gorgeous

by Rennajade



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, becissar - Freeform, becommissar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rennajade/pseuds/Rennajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Beca Mitchell channels the essence of Anna of Arendelle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Awkward, You're Gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

> I am Becommissar trASH I tell you. 
> 
> All German is from Google translate; please tell me if I screwed it up, if you'd be so kind. xD

It was so dark. That was the first thing Beca noticed as she stepped into the club. She could barely see the rest of the Bellas, let alone anyone else. The rest of the group split off to go dance out on the floor, some with each other, some plucking random strangers from the mass of sweaty, drunk humans. Chloe tried to get her to come out on the floor, but after Beca refused –five times, in fact– the redhead left her alone to find her way to the bar, calling over her shoulder that she needed her “jiggle juice.” The brunette grinned at that. Chloe was still Chloe.

Large social gatherings weren’t really her thing. When she was singing with the Bellas, it was different. That had a purpose, and she just lost herself in the music. It was harder to do that in a club. Rather than embarrass herself or, god forbid, give herself an anxiety attack, she picked out a nice, relatively secluded booth to watch everyone else in, and relaxed. After ten minutes, the bartender came over to ask if she wanted something, and ended up giving her a root beer after she had declined.

“Keep an eye on your friends,  _ja?_ ” he asked hopefully. Beca nodded amiably and he grinned at her before moving away.

Worlds were over, but the Bellas had decided to stay a bit longer and take in the sights and sounds. Apparently Copenhagen did a lot of fishing. Like, a  _lot,_ a lot. Beca was pretty sure she had never seen or smelled this much fish. It was ridiculous.

Two weeks in Denmark. It was a pretty fascinating place, but Beca always had a thing for other countries. And accents. And—oh,  _fuck_  no. This thought train was  _not_  going there.

And of course, by some stroke of luck or misfortune –she wasn’t sure which to blame right now– Das Sound Machine was here. It may have been dark, but she could make the giants out with minimal light.

That, and she could hear the Kommissar’s voice. It sounded like angels and cotton candy and  _oh my god what is_ wrong _with you, Beca?_  And yet, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. The German was entirely in her element here, and though she exuded confidence by nature, her showy attitude in the U.S. didn’t compare to this.

Part of her wondered why Kommissar (was that seriously her name? It literally meant inspector…) wasn’t somewhere mourning the loss of the Worlds. She seemed like the type to brood, plan, and then possibly kill those who stood in her way. And  _damn_  if it wasn’t the sexiest—

_Whoa, Beca, no._  “I have a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered, trying to talk herself out of being attracted to the blonde bombshell.  _Deep breaths._  “I have a boyfriend, my life is great, I have an internship waiting at home, I have  _Jesse_  and if I was going to be gay for someone wouldn’t it have been Chloe…?”

She rattled off a huge number of excuses before finally getting frustrated and heading for the bathroom. It seemed like her skull was pulsing and that was probably a bad sign. So determined to reach the bathroom before running into anyone she knew, she made a beeline for the bathroom, charging through the doors like the madwoman she possibly might have been.

She collided with something that felt like a brick wall, except in human form, and dropped everything she was carrying – drink included. Root beer splashed over her blouse as well as the one of the person standing in front of her, and she swore vehemently. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for a new outfit or for this to get cleaned or something, shit I’m really–”

Kommissar.

She had spilled root beer on the  _Kommissar_  of Das Sound Machine.

_Fuckfuckfuck. I’m going to die. Fuck._

“—sorry.” The last word ended on a squeak, and she immediately pulled her phone out to text Chloe, only to ditch her mission when the tall German chuckled under her breath.

She was smirking, probably thinking up ways to torture the American. “Perhaps I should call you Clumsy  _Maus, ja?_ ” When Beca gave no reply, Kommissar tilted her own with a smug smile. “What is wrong,  _Kleine Maus?_  Has the…  _was ist der begriff…_  cat got your tongue?”

The Bella glared at her. “It’s not my fault that I’m awkward and you’re  _gorgeous_ … wait, what?”  _Shit._  “I mean, you’re just too flawless and it’s messing with my head!”

Kommissar laughed, a real laugh, not the mocking kind. “Tiny Mouse, you are so funny… your voice is angry but your words are quite flattering. What is it that you try to accomplish?”

In what must have been the cutest pout she had seen yet, Beca pouted. She flat-out pouted, and Kommissar laughed again. “Such a tiny, feisty, clumsy  _maus_!” she teased, but a moment later smiled. “Congratulations are in order, as well… for your victory. It was clever to bring your previous members to perform with you.”

“… I’m sorry, is this a trap? I’d be good with being trapped by you but – you know what, I give up on words,” Beca grumbled, rolling her eyes. She got this way every single time in the woman’s presence. Kommissar made her go weak in the knees, weak in the head, and weak in–

Not _going there…_

“ _Arme kleine Maus._  You are so stiff. Loosen up. Worlds are over. Why are you not enjoying yourself?”

“Because I can’t think straight around you?” … Was that an innuendo? Oh god, it  _was_. She literally could not think  _straight_  around this incredible Amazon woman. She had always suspected she might be bisexual but god, did it have to be this particular person to make her question every sensible part of her.

If Beca was the mouse, Kommissar was  _definitely_  the cat. She had taken a step closer, backed Beca against the wall. The brunette had to look up just to see her properly, and a soft hand cupped her cheek, Kommissar rubbing her thumb across the Bella’s cheek. “Seriously, do you wash your hands with unicorn tears or something? Nobody should have hands this soft, this is illegal – what are you doing?”

Kommissar had brushed a strand of hair from her face and studied her now. Under such scrutiny, Beca felt suddenly self-conscious. What the hell was the DSM leader studying? Probably assessing exactly how many superior qualities she had. Because, seriously, how was  _anyone_  this flawless?

“Luisa.”

“… What?”

“My name is Luisa.”

Beca blinked. “Is… um? Why are you—”

She didn’t get to finish the question before the Aryan goddess leaned down to catch her lips. Every possible sensible part of her brain short circuited and she couldn’t resist the urge to wrap her arms around the goddess’s neck, dragging her closer, kissing her harder… if it had been possible to take part of Kommissar –no, Luisa– from her through this kiss, Beca would have accomplished it.

Somehow Beca ended up seated on the counter. Somewhere in the back of her mind it occurred that Luisa had lifted her up, as it couldn’t possibly be comfortable to lean down to kiss someone a full foot shorter, but she had no memory of anything but this kiss. And  _fuck_ did Luisa’s lips feel incredible. As if they had been dipped in honey and then formed into clouds. Warm clouds.

The German was the one to pull away, a smug grin on her face. “I thought it appropriate to introduce myself properly before I did that.” She leaned closer, her mouth a hair’s breadth from Beca’s. “And, as much as I enjoy my title, I would rather hear you scream  _my_  name, Beca _._ ”

She noticed the Bella’s openmouthed, wide-eyed –what adorable doe-eyes; perhaps Luisa should change her name– and only smirked before catching the younger woman’s mouth again.

**Author's Note:**

> was ist der begriff? – What’s the phrase?
> 
> arme kleine Maus - poor little mouse


End file.
